But You Can't Out-Wait Fate
by joemoe93
Summary: "Hey, Scott?" he says one night when the waxing gibbous moon hangs above them, illuminating their nighttime prowling. "Do you think someone's anchor can change?" (Title and opening lyrics taken from "Baobabs" by Regina Spektor.)


_You have tamed me, now you must take me_

_How am I supposed to be? I don't have my thorns now_

Isaac never liked the word "anchor," the way Derek used it. It felt too restricting. When his animal side was struggling to run free under the moon, the last thing he wanted was to be tied down. Tied to an anchor, he wouldn't be steady, he wouldn't be in control—he'd drown.

What Derek liked to call an anchor, he called a foundation. A much better word, in his opinion, much more civilized and suitable. Where an anchor drags down, a foundation lifts up. With a foundation solid enough, it's only a matter of reaching up and scraping the sky.

"Hey, Scott?" he says one night when the waxing gibbous moon hangs above them, illuminating their nighttime prowling. Usually they don't speak on these runs, letting their breathing and their footfalls fill in the silence, basking in the rush of freedom.

"What's up?" Scott asks back. "Need to stop and catch your breath?"

"No, I was just wondering about something. Do you think someone's anchor can change?"

Scott slows anyway. It still seems like a miracle to him, sometimes, that he can run for miles now and breathe like he's taking a walk. He stares at Isaac. His expression is unreadable in the dark.

"You mean because of Allison?"

"Sort of, I guess," Isaac says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Scott laughs. "Fine, don't tell me. But my anchor stayed the same, sort of, I guess, after we broke up."

"You mean she's still your anchor?"  
Scott doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he sprawls out on the forest floor and looks up into the sky. He pats the ground next to him, beckoning Isaac over.

"Not really," he says finally. "The important part was that my anchor wasn't anger, like Derek's. It was the way Allison made me feel. Love, I guess. It's still love, except it's not just Allison. She's still there, a little, but when she stopped being enough, I realized my mom could be my anchor, too, and Stiles.

"They're different types of love, but they still work. They all keep me anchored."

"Oh," Isaac says. Crystal clarity comes in a flash.

He found his anchor during his second full moon as a werewolf. His foundation came later.

"Your father locked you in a freezer in the basement to punish you," Derek said. And it was true. He did that and more.

_He didn't used to_.

Once, his screaming and punching had been encouragement and pats on the back. Once, he tossed lacrosse balls, not dishes. Once, he tucked Isaac into bed—no locking, no freezers, no basements.

Of course, once, his father had a wife and two sons. And when two of them were gone, well... Isaac never could figure out why he wasn't enough.

Still, his father loved him and that's what mattered. That's what anchored him.

"So are you going to tell me why you asked?" Scott looks over. He's got his little crooked grin on and his eyebrows are raised. If he concentrates, Isaac can feel the heat of Scott's arm against his own.

"I think my anchor might have changed," he says, but how could an anchor make him feel so light and free?

"Derek told me it was your dad. But... it was love, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," Scott says, still smiling. He nudges Isaac's arm. "Does that mean there's a new love in your life? Someone special?"

"I don't know, maybe." Isaac wishes they were running again just so he'd have something else to focus on.

"Hey, are you all right?" Scott asks more seriously.

Isaac was never able to pinpoint when it changed—when his anchor shifted, became his foundation. He scoured his memory, but nothing hinted at the turning point. He simply reached for control one day to find his father had been pushed aside.

And in his place? In his place... a lopsided smile. Warm brown eyes and a pair of hands made strong on the lacrosse field. A protective streak borne on an earnest demeanor. The smell of a wolf who was neither pack nor enemy.

An at-first-overwhelming feeling of "Oh, shit" and a "someone"—a _someone_ where _anyone_ used to be absent.

But most importantly, a foundation. His father, the one who had loved him and cared for him, had helped him keep ahold of his humanity when his animal side threatened to take over. He'd tethered Isaac firmly down and kept him rational. When he was gone, suddenly Isaac was no longer bound. He was grounded, like a live wire bursting with energy and in need of purpose.

Maybe the distinction between "anchor" and "foundation" was pointless.

Maybe he'd never known what a good anchor really felt like before.

"Scott... it's you."

"What is?"

Isaac takes a deep breath. "My anchor. You're my anchor."

"But—your anchor—" Scott starts. Then, "Oh."

Silence.

"Look, Isaac, I like you. I like you a lot. Just not... like that." Scott sits up. "I'm sorry—"

"Don't. It's okay. I understand." Isaac can't look at Scott. His resolve has vanished without warning and suddenly he can't be _here_ anymore. He can't even look Scott in the eye; isn't it just typical how fucking gracious he's being? In the blink of an eye, he rolls over, pushes himself to all fours, and takes off in a sprint.

"Isaac, wait!"

"I said it's fine, Scott!" He pushes himself, knowing Scott's shorter strides will never catch up. With a burst of speed from his animal side, he could be clear in thirty seconds, but the moon's siren song barely tickles his ears. He almost wishes he could hear it. He almost wishes he didn't have so steady a foundation.

In some ways, Isaac's anchor/foundation became like a fatal addiction. It was what tied him to his humanity. Even when it caused him pain, he didn't dare let it lose its hold. Without it, he'd be little more than an animal.

And in some ways, that wasn't different from anyone else. Everyone needs that connection to others. He didn't suppose he was special for being made human by love. No, what set him apart was the moon-cycled curse on the world he'd become without his human connection.

They meet again the next night—no discussion, no question. They run. They run as they have run for months and months past and they run as they will run for months to come. The usual silence envelops them until the very end of their route.

Isaac tells himself to be quiet, but he can't stop himself. "Hey, Scott? Um... thanks."

"Thanks?" Scott asks, surprised. "For what?"

"For running with me tonight."

"Isaac, we've been running like this for a while now."

Isaac slows to a walk. "No, I mean, thanks for being here. I just—I _really_ don't want to scare you off."

"Scare _me_ off? Dude, you were the one who ran away last night." Seeing the look on Isaac's face, he continues, "What did you expect? It's just the decent thing to do."

Isaac shrugs. "Yeah, well, thanks for being decent."

"Come on, Isaac. I'm your friend. I'd like to stay your friend."

And with that double-edged remark, Scott pulls Isaac into a hug. "Okay?"

"Okay," Isaac says. "I think I can live with that."

He couldn't fight it if he tried.


End file.
